Rain in my life

There is something special about rain in my life. I was born on a stormy morning in the middle of the monsoons in Bengal. Since then it almost always rained when I'd something big in my life; even in the middle of a dry winter or spring. But more than that rain makes me travel back in time with an odd peak at my past. I almost always remember a pair of Jack-fruit trees, all wet in rain in the late afternoon, when I become nostalgic. I remember the streets full of water and a group of careless boys jumping around (well, I was a part of that group) in school dress. I remember a great black sky and a great howling wind. I remember the Hasnuhena tree by the side of our TV antenna (those days we used to have black and white TVs with a separate antenna attached to a long bamboo pole or something outside). I remember bathing in rain and playing football for hours like crazy. I remember the flowing rain water down the Fr Wery path and into the streams. I remember looking at the vast stretch of young paddy fields with waves like a green sea from the window of a thatched mud-house. Oh how I remember them and how I wish I could go back and relive those days just once.

We all have the same wish, but we all can only go to future as time takes us there.